California Dreaming
by WalkingWit
Summary: Layla's restlessness the summer before university turns into a road trip with Warren Peace.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me.**

**I figured if they were freshmen in 2005, then they would have graduated in 2009. I think Warren is two years older, so I figured he would have graduated in 2007.**

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**Reminiscing **

She buried her head in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent deeply as if to commit it to memory. He threaded his fingers through her hair gingerly, holding her close. She wasn't quite sure how long they stayed like that, but they did. An amazing summer was coming to a close, and she had no intention of plunging back into the real world.

"I'm going to miss you," she croaked, attempting not to cry.

"Hey," he stepped back, lifting her chin, "we'll see each other on weekends."

She chuckled lowly, feeling ridiculous.

"Who would've thought?" she teased.

"What, the hothead and the hippie?" he smirked, kissing her softly.

"Yeah, that," she grinned.

* * *

**Early June**

She paced around her room, back and forth. She had just graduated and was ready to go to university to become a botanist/environmentalist. So, why was she feeling so restless? Her palms were itching and she let out a disgruntled growl. Huh, she sounded like Warren, she thought wryly. She dug out her phone from her jean pocket, flipping it open. She scrolled through her contacts and rested on her bed.

"Hello," he grunted.

"Hi," she greeted, twitching.

"What's wrong, hippie?" Warren asked, sounding concerned. He could just tell something was bothering her. She had seemed dazed at graduation, and he was all the way in the audience. She wasn't even the fun dazed, like in Dazed and Confused, she just seemed lost.

She sighed, "I don't know. I feel like I'm in a cage or something. I can't spend my entire summer just sitting here!"

For a second, she thought he hung up until she heard his steady breathing on the other end. She calmed down slightly, waiting for his response.

"Roadtrip," he said.

"What?" Layla asked incredulously.

"I'm dead serious. You, me, my car, and California," he clarified.

Layla's heart began to beat erratically as found her escape. She nodded enthusiastically before realizing that he couldn't see her.

"Yeah," she agreed readily.

"When?" he asked lazily, adjusting his phone.

"Tomorrow?" she suggested.

He groaned, "Don't you want to talk to your mom?"

"Fine," she said, "I'll call you back."

"Bye," he said, hanging up.

She tossed her phone on her bed and dug through her closet for her small suitcase. She threw some clothes onto her bed, grinning. A summer on the road was just what she needed. There was so much to see in California, and she was determined to see it all. LA, San Francisco, San Diego, everything. She had been in California her whole life, but never ventured away from her small suburban town.

She began to sort through her clothes. A few pairs of jeans, some shorts, tee-shirts, two tank tops, and light sweaters fit snugly into her suitcase. She bit her lip, forgetting what she had done with her bathing suit. She hadn't seen it since last summer. She heard a knock at her door and her mother entered without waiting for an answer.

"Packing for university so soon?" she asked her daughter.

Layla winced minutely, "Something like that."

"I know that look, Lalya. Care to clue me in?" Ms. W asked.

"I'm going to California," she answered decidedly.

"Alone?" the older woman raised a brow.

"With Warren," Layla sighed, sinking onto her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew that her mother would oppose her precious daughter spending two months alone with Warren. After all, he wasn't Will. Layla inwardly cringed. Will broke her heart one too many times. It was over for good. She needed to get away, and Warren was the perfect person to get away with. He wouldn't bombard her with questions or judge her.

"Judging by the look on your face, I think you know how I feel," Ms. W said, eyeing her daughter.

"Mom, please," Layla looked up at her.

"I can't stop you," she held up her hands.

Layla jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around her neck.

"Thank you."

* * *

Warren tossed Layla's bag into the trunk next to his bag. He pulled down the hood, slamming it. He yawned. What in the world possessed her to want to leave at dawn? And like the whipped friend he was, he showed up as requested.

Layla waved to her mom as she got into the car, grinning softly. In a few hours they would be in San Diego.

Warren hopped into the driver's seat, plugged in the GPS and started the engine.

"Ready?" he asked her sleepily.

"As I'll ever be," she replied. She watched as her childhood neighborhood disappeared into the distance, and she felt lighter as if a load had been lifted from her shoulders.

She fiddled with the radio stations, nodding along to Muse. She glanced at Warren, glad that he seemed to be humming along under his breath. She was surprised to find out that they liked many of the same musicians during their time at Sky High. Obviously, Warren graduated two years prior seeing as he was a junior when she was a freshman.

Oh, high school. Layla just wanted to leave it in the past. She rested her head against the window, watching her town blur into nothingness. She had been so excited upon entering Sky High, but her hopes had been dashed. Sure, she was on air the few months she and Will were a couple, but they didn't click. Once again by sophomore year, Will was too consumed with being popular and living up to expectations. Needless to say, she and their mutual friends had been left in the dust. She remembers how Warren found her in the girls bathroom, crying. He had been minding his own business walking through the hallways when he heard sobs coming from the bathroom. Of course, he cringed when he realized it was Layla who was crying.

'_Go away," she pushed him without much force._

_'Layla,' he called her by her name, not Hippie, for once._

_'Why?' she asked simply, allowing him to hold her as she let the tears flow freely._

_'He's an idiot,' he replied, letting her hug him. She clung onto him as if he were her last lifeline._

_She let out a bitter laugh and attempted to smile. Warren wiped the tears from her face, offering a grin. His look hardened suddenly._

_'You better not tell anyone I was nice," he pointed, looking dead serious._

_Layla laughed, "Promise."_

Layla kept her promise. No one knew why she was in a suddenly brighter mood despite Will being distant and cold. She began to avoid the cafeteria like the plague in an attempt to distance herself from Will. Instead, she found herself on the back lawn of the campus with Warren. They never spoke much. Layla ate her lunch in silence while Warren read. He too, had been avoid the cafeteria because Zach and Ethan seemed to think that they were cooler when seen eating with him. Despite the silence, it was comfortable. They didn't need to say anything. Soon enough, Warren began to read aloud while Layla let the words of Tolstoy take over her.

'_If I'm boring you,' Warren noticed Layla had closed her eyes as she leaned against him._

_'No, keep reading. I'm imagining everything.'_

_'"The French fashion-of the parents arranging their children's future-was not accepted; it was condemned. The English fashion of the complete independence of girls was also not accepted, and not possible in Russian society. The Russian fashion of matchmaking by the officer of intermediate persons was for some reason considered disgraceful; it was ridiculed by everyone, and by the princess herself. But how girls were to be married, and how parents were to marry them, no one knew...'"_

That was the year Warren graduated. She tried to keep up appearances the next year, her junior year. She smiled and was polite, but never wanted to do anything with her friends. She had stopped eating her lunch, but always went to the back lawn with a book in hand. She read the margins more eagerly than the actual text. Who knew that Warren was so insightful? Analyzing the scribbles in the margins consumed her. They had made a deal to trade books at least once a month. So, on the third Friday of each month, she went to the Paper Lantern with her books, passing him Austen while he passed her Hemmingway or Tolstoy.

One day, Will came up to her in an attempt to make amends. Like the fool she was, she accepted the offer of being his girlfriend. She turned green at the very thought of people gawking at them while they walked through the school, holding hands. Part of her wished she was a pyro like Warren so she could burn Will's hand. It was sweaty and she wasn't fond of public displays of affection. Being his girlfriend was far less enjoyable the second time around. It was as if she were some trophy that Will would brag about to his more popular friends. She broke things off two months later and found herself at the Paper Lantern.

'_Hippie,' he greeted casually, sliding into the booth across from her, 'Long time no see.'_

_She bit her lip. She knew she had been an awful friend, ignoring Warren like that. She just assumed he was too busy to spend time with her. He had to work full time and go to school. She didn't want to impose. Their book trade had been postponed. She fiddled with the copy of Anna Karenina she had. She remembered how he had read it to her the year before._

_'I'm sorry,' she blurted out, 'I've been a grade A jerkface and I miss you.'_

_He smirked, 'Fair enough.'_

_'I finished Anna Karenina,' she pushed it across the table, not missing the broad grin on his face when he flipped through and saw that she had made her own notes in the margins._

Senior year was quite possibly even lonelier than her junior year. The only person she spoke to at school was Magenta. The only thing she had to look forward to were the Saturdays she spent with Warren, at least, when he didn't have to work. She started to come home later and later, making her mother worry.

_'Layla,' she rubbed her temples as she saw her daughter look like a deer caught in the headlights. _

_'Hey, mom,' Layla greeted nervously as she moved away from the stairs she was about to attempt to sneak up._

_'Do you have any idea what time it is?' Ms. W asked._

_'Yes,' she replied defeatedly. _

_'And?'_

_'I lost track of time, mom. Sorry.'_

_'You've been losing track of time,' she sighed, cringing at the thought that her daughter was off somewhere with Baron Battle's son for hours on end. She knew about their friendship, and the book trading. That had been fine. But Layla coming home at three in the morning was something she couldn't handle._

_'Mom,' she threw her hands up, 'I'm sorry, what else can I say?'_

_'Where were you?' she asked, afraid to know the answer._

_Layla smiled, as if in a trance, 'A concert.'_

"Wake up," Warren said quietly, rubbing her shoulder.

"Wha...?" she cracked open an eye.

"I stopped for food. I figured you might be hungry."

"Oh," Layla said, getting out of the car.

They walked into the diner in companionable silence. Layla let out a yawn and Warren smirked at her.

"And you wanted to leave at dawn," he told her as they sat down in a booth.

"Oh, shut up. This trip was your idea," she scoffed.

"Like you didn't jump at the chance," he raised a brow, taking a menu.

A waitress came to their table, popping her gum.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" she asked, looking pointedly at Warren.

"A burger and fries," he said, sending Lalya an apologetic look. He tried to not eat meat around her, but there was only so much soy he could handle.

"And you?"

"A caesar salad. Dressing on the side. Not ranch, though. And can you use baby tomatoes instead of regular? No crutons, either. But a bread basked would be nice," she babbled, looking at the menu.

"Coming right up," the waitress said.

Lalya looked up to see Warren smirking at her.

"What?"

"You totally pulled a Sally," he joked.

"Oh, really, do tell, _Harry_," she spat. Why she was possessed to make him watch that movie, she didn't know.

Warren shook his head.

"We should be in San Diego within the hour," he said.

"Good," Lalya nodded decidedly, glancing through the menu to see if there was any dessert she wanted.

Warren took out a book from his pocket. Layla rolled her eyes, smiling.

'I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools...' Warren began to read, from the middle of the book.

"You just skipped over Benjy's section," Lalya interrupted.

"You've read it," Warren shrugged.

"Go back to the beginning," she insisted.

"Technically, this is the beginning," Warren countered, looking up from the book.

Their argument was set on pause when the waitress returned with their food. She glanced at the book and made a face. Warren looked mildly offended and pulled the book closer to him. The waitress looked at him as if he was insane and went on with her business.

"Start with Benjy," Layla insisted between mouthfuls of salad.

"There's no right place to start this book unless you go through and number everything in chronological order," Warren glared at the girl in front of him.

"Yeah, yeah, and that ruins the fun of stream of conscious, got it," Layla conceded.

Warren grunted in response, taking a bite of his burger. Layla wrinkled her nose, but made no response at the animal slaughter that gave Warren that burger. She snatched a fry from his plate. He shook his head and ignored her.

"Do we need to take the 8?" Layla inquired about the freeways.

"Yeah. And after leaving San Diego the 5 will get us to LA," he replied monotonously.

Layla dug a map out of her bag, ignoring Warren's cries of "We have a GPS." She scanned it and frowned.

"No Hunington Beach? No Anaheim? What about Disneyland?" she pouted.

Warren rolled his eyes and sighed. He couldn't resist the pout.

"No 'It's a Small World'," he pointed at her.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

They resumed their meal in silence, much like they had spent many lunches together in high school, and the many dinners together at the Paper Lantern. They didn't have to talk, just enjoy each other's company.

_"It is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk."-Harry Burns, When Harry Met Sally_

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_**Please Review. **

**I know that their relationship is kind of ambiguous, but it's supposed to be. Like in When Harry Met Sally, they're in the realm of somewhere between friends and dating.**


	2. Day One

**I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me. And for my reviewer, yes, they live in California.

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**Day One**

Lalya groaned loudly as they hit traffic. Warren kept tapping his hands on the steering wheel in annoyance. She was worried that he would set the other cars on fire out of anger. She glanced at him and noticed his brow twitch as they drove at the oh-so fast pace of two miles per hour. They had been whizzing on the freeway until they hit a bout of traffic. For the last fifteen minutes, Warren had been clenching his fists while Layla looked on worriedly.

"Come on!" Warren growled lowly under his breath.

"There's probably a car accident. Let's just hope no one was hurt."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes.

Layla scowled and leaned back against her seat, bored. The radio was crackling annoyingly so she had turned it off. She suddenly remembered the copy of T_he Sound and the Fury_ Warren had and looked to him.

"Book," she said.

"Huh?" he said distractedly.

"_Sound and the Fury_," she clarified.

"It's in my back pocket, hold on," he said.

They were stalled in traffic anyway, so he reached behind him only to have Lalya yank the book away from him. She leafed through the book, scanning the notes in the margins.

"Thanks," she said, smirking.

"You just wanted to touch my ass," he teased.

"Oh yeah, that was totally it," she deadpanned.

She began reading from the Benjy section, just as Warren should have.

"'_Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting_,'" she read aloud, watching Warren's form relax through her peripheral vision.

The speed of the cars around them picked up, and soon the tires were rolling over the scorching hot asphalt of the freeway. Warren drove as if in a trance, allowing Layla's voice to drown out the aggravating tone of the GPS. He only changed lanes when someone drove excruciatingly slow. The GPS let out an 'Exit on right' and Warren turned on the blinker.

"_Caddy smelled like trees_," Layla read, stopping short, "Are we there?" she asked.

"I don't know what 'there' is. Do you want to find a place to stay first, or drive around?" he asked as he took the exit.

"Place to stay. I can't stay in the car," she said quickly. She couldn't even feel her legs, she had been sitting down for so long.

They passed Old San Diego, heading into the newer downtown and Layla looked out the window for a hotel.

"Here," she said, pointing. It was a simple Best Western. It should suffice for a few nights.

Warren parked the old car and hopped out, stretching his legs. Layla did the same, bringing her legs up to her chest. Warren shook his legs before popping the trunk open, taking out their two small suitcases.

They walked into the lobby, and were greeted by the receptionist, a kind older lady.

"I'm sorry. We only have a single room available," the lady said.

Layla's brow furrowed and Warren rolled his eyes.

"Not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," Layla muttered, earning a light jab in the rib.

_Layla stumbled into Warren's apartment, Warren behind her, hand on her hip._

_"I'm so sleepy," she yawned._

_Warren smirked and shook his head, "The concert was worth it, though."_

_"Very much worth it," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "thank you. Best birthday ever."_

_"No problem," he shook off the thanks and sat down on the couch._

_"Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?" Warren asked as Layla sank into the spot next to him._

_"Yeah," Layla shook the wavy hair out of her face, "I can deal with my mom in the morning. She has no reason to call, I am eighteen after all," she grinned._

_"Fine," he shrugged, heading into his room._

_Layla padded into the room after him, resisting the urge to fall onto the bed and sleep. She watched as Warren rummaged through his drawers and caught the tee shirt he threw at her. Layla thanked him and began to undress, laughing when Warren turned in the other direction, saying "Oh my eyes!"_

_Once she was in the tee shirt, she crawled into his bed, pulling the covers over her and closing her eyes. She felt a weight next to her and a hand around her waist. She relaxed, ignoring the faint buzzing coming from her cell phone._

They were given the keys and found their room easily. Lalya figured it looked clean enough, and flopped onto the bed.

Warren set their bags down and crossed his arms.

"Now what?" he asked. They hadn't really thought any of their trip through except for the plans they made last night. Layla was usually better at thinking things through, while Warren was more spontaneous. Damn, he'd been a bad, procrastinating influence on her.

"There's a brochure and sightseeing guide," she plucked it from the bedside table.

Warren sat down next to her and they began to scour it for things they wanted to do.

"Oh, Balboa Park is so pretty," she smiled.

"Looks like most of the museums are there," Warren noticed. He cringed inwardly. He wasn't very fond of museums. He'd much rather walk around the city, taking in the sights.

"Good, Balboa Park it is," Layla decided.

Warren glanced at his watch. There was no way that they would be able to hit up four museums in half a day.

"Let's save that for tomorrow," Warren grumbled, laying down. He was tired. His eyes drooped to a close before Layla shook him roughly.

"Warren," she whined, leaning over him.

"What?" he cracked an eye open.

"There will be plenty of time to sleep. Let's go to the beach," she said determinedly.

He groaned, sitting up. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Fine."

Layla beamed and rummaged through her suitcase before ducking into the bathroom. While waiting, Warren changed into his swim trunks and left his black tee on, not bothering to change.

Layla exited the bathroom wearing a white sundress, her hair in a bun. She threw a towel and sunblock into her oversized bag. Warren informed her that there was a blanket in the trunk of the car. He grabbed the keys to the car and the hotel room and ushered her out of the room.

Once at the beach, Layla ran towards the water, letting her feet get wet. Warren sat down on the sand, casually observing the people on the beach. Not many people were actually in the water save for children. Most of the women seemed to be sunbathing while men gawked at them. He scowled at the middle aged men who were staring at a group of girls who could be no older than him. Maybe a little fire would distract them? He casually moved to the group of girls, informing them that they were being watched. A blonde made a comment about old perverted men, and they moved to a different area at the beach. Satisfied, he moved back to where Layla had dropped her stuff.

Layla joined Warren a few minutes later, grinning. She fiddled with a bottle of sunscreen, wiping some on her legs and arms. She pulled off her dress, leaving her in a one piece purple swimsuit. She passed the bottle to Warren.

He put the sunblock on her back and began rubbing it into her skin. He tried to ignore the soft moan that escaped her lips and focused on her pale skin.

"Let's swim," she said, nudging him.

"No thanks. I'm fire, remember?" he raised a brow.

"At least put sunblock on," she took the bottle from him, squeezing the white cream onto his arms.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm already tan."

"Well good for you. It doesn't matter. I won't have you getting skin cancer," she fussed, rubbing the sunblock over his arms.

Warren sighed and took his shirt off, taking the sunblock from her.

"Better," Layla nodded as she snatched the bottle back and massaged it onto his back and shoulders. Her fingers traced the tattoos of flames on his wrists gingerly before trailing them up to his shoulder. There rested a newer tattoo. She couldn't tell if it was Mandarin or Cantonese. Whichever it was, Warren didn't bother telling her the meaning of it.

"What happened to swimming?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Hmm?" she looked up, coloring under his gaze.

He smirked, standing up abruptly. He picked her up, placing her over his shoulder as he walked closer to the water.

"Warren, put me down," she hissed, slapping his back.

"Fine," he set her down into the water. She landed with a splash. She glared at him in annoyance, brushing her hair back.

"Oh, it's on," she lunged at him.

* * *

Ms. Williams sat in her living room, nursing a cup of ice tea. She looked around the empty house defeatedly. It was so dull without Layla around, she had to admit. The flowers sitting on the window sill were beginning to wilt, and she didn't even bother tending to them. The mere thought of her daughter out on the road with Baron Battle's son made her feel ill. Joy Peace was a nice enough girl back at Sky High, but she had unwittingly fallen for Battle. She thought she could reform him, but had no such luck. Warren was the spitting image of his father, and Ms. Williams could see why Layla was drawn to him. She shook her head. Why couldn't Layla just be drawn to Will? They were so cute together, so innocent. All she remembers about their break-up was Layla ranting about PDA. She was becoming even more anti-establishment and more radical. She was distancing herself from her friends like Will, and, well, she couldn't remember the names of the other kids. All she remembers was that they were on the hero track. Again, the blame was on Warren.

She had called Layla's phone already, but it went straight to voicemail. She had half the mind to call Joy Peace and inform her about how her son kidnapped Layla. No, kidnapped wasn't the right word. It was more like tricked. Yes, tricked.

* * *

Joy Peace walked through the security of the prison, being led into an empty room with a guard. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. She just wanted to see him. Once a week was all she would get for the rest of her life. It wasn't nearly enough time, and she would break down when she realized how much time they lost together. She regrets even asking him to leave. If she hadn't, he would've stayed on the good side.

"Joy," he says gruffly as a guard walks him in.

She can't bear to look in his eyes, so dead and lifeless compared to how lively they used to be. There was no more spark, no more fire. Years in solitary could do that to you, she supposed.

"Baron," her voice cracks.

It was always like that at the beginning of the visits. She strides across the room and hugs him until he relaxes in her grasp. They move to the table, sitting across from each other. His handcuffs are removed, but he still has a tracking device, and the room negated any super powers.

"What have you been reading lately?" she asks.

He takes out a book from his pocket, _The Death of Ivan Ilyich. _She offered a soft smile. Warren was fond of Tolstoy as well.

_""He had to live thus all alone on the brink of an abyss, with no one who understood or pitied him..."" _Baron began to read, his tone softening as he went on. His eyes would dart quickly to Joy, who was getting lost in the story. Her eyes were glassy as the weight of the passage hit her. Didn't he know that he wasn't alone?

He had been looking forward to the visit all week. And now he knew, that it was enough just to have her next to him, listening to him read as they had done so many times before.

* * *

Layla brushed her damp hair, attempting to get all of the knots out of it. Warren had darted into the bathroom once Layla had finished her shower. She smirked upon recalling the sand she had gotten in his hair. She moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. She rummaged through her purse and checked her cell phone. Twelve missed calls.

"_Hello?" _

"Hi mom," she rolled her eyes at her mom's worried tone.

_"Layla, where are you?"_

"San Diego."

Warren stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. Layla moved her gaze away from his shirtless chest and focused on the blank television in front of her. He smirked and sauntered over to the bed, sitting behind her. He brushed her wavy hair away from her neck to one shoulder. His fingers brushed her shoulder gently, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What?" Layla asked, not hearing the question. Her attention was being diverted by Warren's hands massaging her back.

_"I said, how long do you think you'll be there?"_ Ms. Williams was exasperated.

"A few days. I don't know," Layla said quickly. She felt his warm breath on her skin and her breathing quickened.

"Mom, I gotta go, bye," she hung up abruptly.

She tossed the phone on the bedside table and turned to face Warren with a glare. He laughed at her expression.

"You suck!" she pushed him.

"The look on your face is hilarious," he smirked.

"My mother probably thinks you're trying to seduce me or something," she groaned.

"She already thinks I've corrupted you," he shrugged.

"Oh, put a shirt on," she swatted his chest.

"Put some pants on," he countered.

"I'm wearing shorts," she defended.

"More like underwear," he raised a brow, sparing a glance at the tank top and cotton shorts.

"Shut up," she said, slipping under the sheets.

"Good night to you, too," he said, sliding in next to her.

He didn't slide his arm around her waist like he usually did. She stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. She glanced and frowned upon seeing his eyes closed. She bit her lip and took his arm, wrapping it around her. She heard him chuckle and she couldn't help but smile.

_Every genuine boy is a rebel and an anarch. If he were allowed to develop according to his own instincts, his own inclinations, society would undergo such a radical transformation as to make the adult revolutionary cower and cringe. __-John Andrew Holmes_

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_**Not quite what I expected this chapter to end up like, but here it is. Please review.**


	3. As You Wish

**I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me. **

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**As You Wish**

Sunlight filtered through the curtain, casting a warm glow in the room. Layla hummed sleepily, nestling herself under the sheets even further. She had become far too used to waking with Warren by her side. She had been spending nights at his apartment regularly after she turned eighteen. On the rare night she was at home, she couldn't sleep, so she would call him. He would read a book over the phone and she'd fall asleep with the phone on the pillow next to her.

She felt a tickle on her side and shifted so she was facing Warren. She cracked an eye open to see his eyes half-lidded. She nuzzled her head against his chest and closed her eyes again. He was better than the pillow, she had to admit. His fingers grazed over the light cotton of her tank top.

"Keep that up and I'm going to fall asleep again," she murmured, almost purring.

"What a waste of a day," he commented lazily.

Layla nodded minutely, willing herself to open her eyes. Warren offered a small smile.

"Morning," he greeted.

"Morning," she said softly.

"What's on the agenda today?" he asked, drawing circles on her back.

"Bed," she said, grateful that she was already laying down. Just a light touch from him was enough to make her feel weak.

Warren leaned over her, "And what do you suggest we do?"

His fingers glided over her hips to her waist, hot breath on her neck.

"I have a few ideas," she reached up, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Her breathing quickened as his hands crept under her shirt. She rolled away from him, blushing.

Warren smirked, "Thought that'd wake you up."

Layla shook her head, trying to fight a smile. He knew getting her hot and bothered was the only way to make her lazy self get out of bed. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching. Warren rolled out of bed, running his hands through his hair. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach. She stood on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek, watching him color. Ha! It was his turn to be embarrassed. She took a spare change of clothes from her suitcase and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

She tossed her tank-top into the room, followed by her shorts. Warren groaned, picking up the discarded sleep clothes. She walked back into the room, buttoning up a light green blouse. She had rolled up her jeans to her ankles, creating capris. Warren ducked into the bathroom after her and changed into a red shirt and worn jeans. He slipped on his sneakers while Layla slid on her ballet flats.

"Where to?" he asked as they got into the car.

Layla clutched the brochure, "Food. We never even ate dinner last night."

"As you wish," he started the engine, driving off.

* * *

Will Stronghold stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He had attended a post-grad party with a few of his 'friends' the night before and had stumbled into his house around three in the morning. He couldn't sleep despite the fatigue. He blanched at the thought of taking off for university. He was so popular in high school, being a Stronghold and all. What if that popularity didn't transfer to university? It's not like the people there would know that he's a third generation hero. He had to keep that part of his identity under-wraps. He groaned, the stale alcohol still on his breath. When did everything get so wrong and jumbled?

After homecoming, freshman year had been great. He had great friends in Ethan, Zack, Magenta, and Warren. He had Layla. Layla. She would be the one who got away. He let his damn ego take over again. At least in sophomore year, Warren had kept him in check. While Will was admired by most of the student body, he knew that the girls would always pine for Warren. Except Layla, or so he thought. She began to disappear at lunch more often. He followed her one day, to see her resting next to Warren, eyes closed while he read lazily from a book. He had been so angry that he wanted to beat up the pyro. After that, he figured it would be less painful to just ignore her.

Then, the best thing happened. Warren graduated. In junior year, Layla was left without her closest confidant. Will decided to make amends, realizing that he had been acting like a grade A jerk. He had been so happy. His more popular friends had teased him about his taste in girls, and he had done nothing to defend her.

_'Will, man, she won't even let you kiss her,' a tall blond kid who could fly laughed._

_Will and a few of his buddies sat around a table at the Paper Lantern. Luckily, Warren wasn't there to glare daggers at them._

_'She doesn't like public displays of affection,' Will defended her weakly._

_A smirk spread across the blond boy's face, 'She must be great in private, then.'_

_'I bet she has a tight ass,' another one commented._

_Will colored in anger. No one was allowed about her like that._

_'Shut up," he said tersely._

God, how could he have been friends with such asses? How could he have gotten so caught up in that? He deserved to get dumped. He wanted nothing more than to apologize to Layla for the umpteenth time. He knew that she had left early yesterday morning with Warren. Ugh.

* * *

"I'm so sick of museums," Warren complained as they walked down the busy streets. Layla squeezed his hand gently while her other hand held an ice cream cone.

"We're done with the museums, promise," she said.

"Where to next?" he asked.

Layla wrinkled her nose. They just had a late lunch/early dinner after going to the museum. Balboa Park had beautiful Spanish colonial architecture. They had also gone through Old Town, marveling at the old architecture. It was nearing six, and they had been walking all day.

"Mission Beach Boardwalk?" she suggested.

Warren nodded and they continued to walk in that direction at a leisurely place. Warren released his grip on her hand and slung his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him as they came upon a dense group of tourists. Layla laughed softly. She wrapped her arm around his waist, pressing into him.

"Or we could go back to the hotel," he snorted.

Layla smiled, nodding minutely. She wouldn't mind, but they had a boardwalk to explore. They spent an hour ambling along the three-mile stretch before settling onto the shore, watching the water.

"It's pretty," she breathed, watching the light hit the blue waves.

"Beautiful," Warren agreed.

They sat on the sand, not caring that their clothes will get sandy. Warren had no book with him, and suddenly felt naked. Layla leaned into his chest, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"I don't have a book," he said strangely.

"Just watch," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the lapping waves.

As if in perfect time, the waves would crash onto the shore and recede quickly before catching another wind. The blue-green water left marks on the sand, always returning. Their attention was soon grabbed by a man chasing a little boy, a woman laughing, holding up her camera. The boy ran into the waves, only to be caught by his father who placed him on his shoulder. The mother grinned at the sight of her family, taking the boy from her husband and giving him a hug.

Warren let out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding as the couple walked out of view. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had memories of his father before his incarceration, but he subdued them. He grew up father-less. As much as his mother was wonderful, something was always missing.

Layla squeezed his hand, staring at him with a knowing look. She crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed light, feathery kisses to his forehead and cheek. She leaned into his ear.

"You are loved, you know," she whispered as if telling a secret.

He nodded wordlessly, enveloping her into a tight hug. He relaxed, thoughts of his father subsiding. He felt lighter and pulled away from her grasp, smiling slightly.

"I'd be lost without you, you know," he confided.

Layla smiled broadly, rewarding him with another kiss on the cheek.

"Want to swim?" he asked hoarsely.

Layla nodded, beginning to fiddle with the buttons of her blouse. Warren moved her hands away and unbuttoned them one by one. His hands grazed over her shoulders, pulling the green blouse off. It dropped to the sandy ground. His fingers glided over the curve of her neck to her shoulder, to the strap of the bathing suit.

"Warren," she breathed closing and opening her eyes quickly. All thoughts of taking a swim escaped from her mind.

"Hm?" he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She shifted in his lap, pressing herself closer. She shivered as his fingers trailed on her exposed back.

"The sun is setting," he said quietly.

She turned around, still sitting on his lap. His arms automatically wrapped around her slight waist as they watched the sky change colors. The sun reflected off of the water, casting a golden glow. The sky was pink and orange, exuding warmth.

"Now this, this is beautiful," Warren commented.

"Can we just stay like this?" Layla murmured.

"As you wish," he replied.

Layla let out a contented sigh, never wanting the moment to end. She relaxed in his grasp and allowed a giddy smile to cross her features. They both understood what the other meant.

'_That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying "As you wish", what he meant was, "I love you." And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.'-The Princess Bride_

* * *

**Another chapter done. I would like to hear (or read, in this case) any criticisms or thoughts. Please review.**


	4. Undisclosed Desires

**I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me. **

* * *

**Undisclosed Desires**

The sun had set, leaving the pair staring at the night sky. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hands gently brushed the hair away from her face. He hummed quietly, looking at her. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He stretched his legs out in front of him, curling his toes in the sand. Beige sand covered her feet and speckled her auburn hair.

"We should go," Warren said softly, glancing around at the almost deserted beach. A few stray sun-worshippers were gathering up the last of their belongings.

Layla nodded in agreement yet made no indication that she would move. Warren groaned when he realized how far away the car was. Curse them for walking. He stood up and took Layla's hand, lifting her to her feet.

She swayed tiredly, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked. He wrapped his arm around her while her hand clutched onto his waist. He could feel her drifting off into dream-land when he heard her breathing steady. He nudged her gently but got no response. He sighed and picked her up, carrying her the rest of the way to the car. Seriously, that girl couldn't stay awake even during their movie-marathons. By ten she would fall asleep. The only way she managed to stay awake on her eighteenth birthday was the copious amounts of coffee Warren had provided.

After what seemed like an eternity later, Warren reached the car. He opened the door and placed Layla in the passenger seat, careful not to wake her up. He sat in his seat, turning the key in the ignition. He panicked when the radio began to blare.

He hurriedly turned down the volume, glancing at Layla. She was still asleep, but had titled her head just slightly. He turned the volume back up, just a little.

Warren tapped his fingers on the steering wheel absentmindedly. It had become a habit. As he parked the car, Layla opened her eyes.

Warren smirked at her. He got out of the car, opening the door for Layla. She stood unsteadily.

"Did you carry me?" she asked as they walked into the hotel.

"No, you floated," he drawled, hitting the elevator button.

She raised a brow in amusement, "I don't recall having that power."

Once in their room, she immediately fell onto the bed.

"We're all sandy," Warren pointed out. Layla shook her head, watching grains of sand scatter onto the carpet.

Layla sighed and dragged herself into the bathroom. A few minutes later, a buzzing came from her purse. Warren reached for her phone, rolling his eyes at the caller ID.

"Hello?" he asked gruffly.

"_Where's Layla?_" Ms. Williams demanded.

"She's in the bathroom. I'll tell her to call you back," he answered as politely as he could.

"_Why wasn't she answering her phone? I've called at least ten times!"_

"We were at a few museums," he replied in a clipped tone.

He heard her mumble something unintelligble and she said goodbye before hanging up.

Layla exited the bathroom, running her hands through her wet hair. Warren tossed the phone to her, averting his gaze from the short, nearly transluscent nightgown that she preferred in the summer.

"Your mom called."

Layla made a face, "Sorry."

Warren stared at her with an expressionless face. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with her," she said, gazing up at him.

His features softened and he shrugged.

"Are you done in there?" he gestured to the bathroom, leaving her embrace. She nodded.

He ducked in quickly after taking his sweatpants from the chair. Layla sat on the bed, lost in thought. She heard the water turn on and closed her eyes, letting the sound soothe her. She had so much to think about. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. What was going on with her? Was it too much sun? Or being cramped in a tiny hotel room with him? Or was it something else? Whatever that something was, it made her want to touch him, and not in a platonic way. She blushed profusely, knowing he would think her insane. He'd grunt out a "hippie" and roll his eyes. She was his best friend, that was all. Layla let her eyes drift to a close, dozing off.

Minutes later, Warren walked into the room, running a towel through his growing hair. He spotted the snooring Layla and smiled. He pushed back the covers on one side of the bed before gently picking her up and setting her down, covering her with a sheet. He pushed the covers on the other side back, yawning as he slipped in next to her. She let out a small murmur. He could have sworn she said his name, but he figured he was imagining things.

* * *

Layla opened her eyes to see Warren leaning over her, a look of concern on his face.

"You're awake," relief washed over his features.

"What happened?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbow. She blew the wavy strands of hair out of her face.

"You tell me. I've been trying to wake you up for a half hour," he said dryly.

"What?"

"You pretty much passed out last night. By the time I was done with my shower you were sleeping like a baby," he offered a smirk.

"Oh," Layla said.

"I thought you were sick, turning red and everything," he said, leaning closer. He placed a hand on her forehead, but she didn't feel warm.

Layla blinked rapidly. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and she wondered why he never dared to kiss her lips.

"We better head out if we want to get to LA," Warren began, lifting himself off of the bed.

Layla sat up warily, eyeing Warren out of the corner of her eye. He pulled on a plain tee shirt and she found herself wishing that he hadn't bothered.

"Are you going to sit there all day?" Warren quirked his brow.

Layla stifled a chuckle and slid off of the bed. Warren crossed the room to her, running his hands down her arms gingerly.

"You scared me, you know," he said softly.

"I didn't mean to," her breath hitched in her throat as his hands travelled to her hips. He rubbed the thin cotton between his fingers, tickling her.

Warren pulled her closer to him, enveloping her in a warm hug. Layla rested her head on his chest.

"Your mom would have killed me if you were sick," he joked.

"We should get going soon," she sighed. Leave it to him to mention her mother just when she was about to muster up some courage.

She moved out of his grasp and leaned over to pick out clothes from her luggage, effectively ending the little moment, whatever it was.

* * *

The AC died, just as it tended to. Layla sat in the passanger seat, sweating like a pig. She stretched her legs out in front of her as far as she could. Warren glared at the road ahead of them, attempting to not set the stalled cars in front of them on fire. The 101 had to be one of the levels in hell.

Layla set her book down, not being able to focus with all the honking going on around her. The wind coming through the open windows made the pages of the book flutter about.

"Can we close the windows?"

"And overheat to death?" Warren asked. It didn't matter to him, he was a pyro. He just wanted to keep heatstroke away from his friend.

Layla nodded and rolled up her window, leaving it a crack open. She turned back to her book, and began reading outloud from _The Stark Munro Letters _by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: " _You know how easily and suddenly these things happen, beginning in playful teasing and ending in something a little warmer than friendship. You squeeze the slender arm which is passed through yours, you venture to take the little gloved hand, you say good night at absurd length in the shadow of the door. It is innocent and very interesting, love trying his wings in a first little flutter."_

Warren glanced at her, a look in his eyes she had never seen before. But as soon as the flash of longing- or was it hurt?-occurred, it was gone. His face was stoic once more as he focused on the road. Layla gulped audibly, continuing on with the book, blinking back tears. She stopped reading outloud, for she was poring over the same little sentences over and over again. Doyle sure knew what he was writing about.

Warren exited on Hollywood Boulevard, scouring for a hotel to check into. Once again, they found themselves at a Best Western which looked identical to the one they stayed in in San Diego. They checked in and Layla smirked at the sight of a queen sized bed. She flopped onto it, boucing lightly. Warren watched her, shaking his head. He dropped his bag onto the ground, crossing his arms.

"The mattress is nice," she decided.

Warren snorted, "It's going to have to take a lot more movement than that," he teased.

Layla panicked inwardly. Either he had caught onto her dirty fantasies, or he was trying to mess with her. She bit her lip. She decided to busy herself and once again rummaged through her luggage to find sunblock.

"Where to?" he asked, suddenly realizing his joke rang a bit too true in his head. He couldn't deny that Layla was pretty, beautiful even. She was kind, compassionate, and smarter than anyone else he knew. But he was her friend, and nothing more. He was starting to think this impromptu road trip was a mistake, and that Ms. Williams's worries weren't for nothing. If it was up to him, he'd love nothing more than to "corrupt" Layla. But he couldn't, and wouldn't. She was too dear to him, and to ruin a friendship with sex would be the dumbest thing he'd ever done (and he had done many dumb things).

She bit her lip thoughtfully. Hollywood Walk of Fame, downtown LA, the Nokia Theater, the Kodak Theatre, there was too much to see. And she'd be seeing it with him.

"Walk of Fame?" she suggested.

"As you wish," he smirked.

* * *

Gregory Peck, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers. Layla was soaking up the sights and pointing out every star of an actor or musician she admired. Warren suddenly stopped, laughing at one. Layla snorted.

"Ryan Seacrest?" she asked in surprise.

"Apparently, yes," Warren chuckled.

"Huh. Moving on," Layla grabbed Warren's hand, dragging him forward.

They walked east on Hollywood Boulevard towards the Hollywood and Highland Center where the Kodak Theatre was located, blending in with the other tourists. The walked in, automatically debating where to go.

"I'm starving," Warren grumbled.

"Want to go to the Pizza Kitchen?" Layla asked. She knew she could get a veggie pizza there.

"Let's go," Warren glanced about. Which way were they supposed to go? The Center was huge.

"We'll find it eventually," she said as if reading his thoughts.

They set off straight ahead at a leisurely pace. Layla's hand found Warren's and he glanced down at her. He tried to control the heat rising to his cheeks and was afraid he might burn her hand. That was the last thing he wanted. He relaxed and he held tighter onto her hand, trying not to notice how small and delicate it was in his larger one, and how right it felt.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait. Life caught up with me, as did an idea for a Doctor Who fic that wouldn't leave me alone. Check it out, if you're a fan of the show. It's called "Bridging the Gap". **

**Please review.**


	5. Dose of Reality

**I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me. **

* * *

**Dose of Reality**

His graduation day was bittersweet. Sweet because it meant he was through with the hell that was high school. Bitter because as his mom was congratulating him on their way outside, as they were walking thtough the hallway, he saw her. Standing there in her green and white tee shirt and jeans, she stared at him, her eyes wide and solemn. He told his mom he would catch up and turned to Layla. She took in a deep breath, offering a watery smile and a "congratulations". He thanked her quietly, not noticing the other celebrating seniors running and flying through the halls.

"What's wrong, hippie?" he asked with a smirk, trying to get her to laugh. Anything to get her to laugh.

She shook her head, amused, before looking up at him.

"I'm going to miss you," she said under her breath.

"You make it sound like I'm dying, or going off to war," he snorted.

"You're my best friend," she choked on a sob, hugging him tightly.

Warren's breath caught in his throat and he hugged back, unwilling to let her go.

"What am I going to do without you?" she asked him.

"Sneak out during lunch to see me. Duh," he pulled away to catch the fleeting smile that crossed her features.

Layla nodded in tentative agreement. She hugged him again, kissing him on the cheek.

Amid the loud cheers of joyous graduates yelling across the hallways, tossing their caps and gowns, lost in their own little coccoon, Warren could have sworn he heard her whisper "I love you". But her voice was too quiet, and their surroundings too loud. So he didn't answer, only hugging her tighter and kissing her on the forehead. He hoped that was answer enough.

They spent the majority of the summer together before Layla set off on her junior year. Warren liked to call it the "lost year", only in his head, though. She started dating Stronghold again, much to his distaste. The goons that surrounded him, and by extension, Layla, were some of the most disgusting beings on the planet. They leered at girls in the hall. One had the power of wind so he made it a point to create a breeze whenever a girl wearing a skirt walked by. Layla figured out real early to wear pants.

He remembers the call well. After avoiding him for months due to Stronghold's unreasonable jealousy, she called him at work, her voice cracking. She had dumped Stronghold, but wouldn't say why. He got to her house as fast as he could. She was sitting on the doorstep, informing him that her mom was out. She stood, wearing a rumpled sweater. She shook uncontrollably and hugged him. He could already tell what had happened, but she explained anyways. Will had come over, they had been watching a movie, and then started making out. Will had been a bit too aggressive, getting angry when Layla wouldn't let him go further. Him, being a hormonal teenage boy, accused her of 'spreading her legs' for the ass who looked up unsuspecting girls' skirts and made out with them in the janitor's closet. Needless to say, after further yelling, she dumped him.

Layla had to physically restrain Warren from going next door to pound the living daylights out of the punk.

Her graduation had been a more happy affair. Still, she felt as though she was drifting through life, and in a total spur of the moment idea, dragged his ass around California. Now here they were, holding hands as if they were a couple (but they weren't) and walked through Olevera Street. The street vendors sold their bracelets, necklaces, bags, and belts to tourists and Angelinos alike.

After having exhausted all possibilities on the first day in Hollywood, today brought them to LA. The morning had been spent at the Getty, and Layla was insistent on heading towards Disneyland tomorrow. As if they were both rolling in the benjamins.

Layla took a bite of her ice cream, a bright scarf catching her attention. She knew she couldn't buy it. They were on a budget. They needed at least $200 for gas until San Francisco and another $300 to get home. The Best Western cost $70 a night. So for five more days, that made $350. No, Disneyland would have to wait for another trip.

"Warren," she started thoughtfully, "why don't we just head towards San Francsico tomorrow morning."

"No Disney?" he asked with a raised brow.

She shook her head. He squeezed her shoulder, "We're going."

"We're broke," she argued, deciding to be the rational one.

"We'll figure something out. I can cut out lunch," he suggested.

"As if you even eat. You sit there and watch me eat, as if there isn't enough for the both of us," Layla bit back.

Warren rolled his eyes in annoyance. Layla scowled (a gesture she had learned from Warren himself). She knew how this situation would pan out. They would argue, and she'd eventually get her way. Because he'd groan and say "as you wish" with an eye roll. She knew him better than she knew herself, but sometimes she thought she didn't know him at all. He was so reserved, brooding in a corner somewhere. He wouldn't speak unless necessary. But not with her. He could talk a lot. He just chose not to most of the tim. She realized she couldn't change him. He was who he was. She just wished he'd give her a few damn hints about how he felt.

"No Disneyland," Layla said firmly.

"As you wish," he grumbled, slinging his arm around her neck, "next time, yeah?"

She nodded in agreement as they set off towards where the car was parked. They reached the proper street twenty minutes later.

"Warren," Layla stared blankly at the empty space where Warren's car had once been.

"Shit. Dude, where's my car?" Warren cursed, running his hand through his hair.

"Not here, apparently," Layla drawled.

"Shit. Shit," he cursed repeatedly, the flames in his hands sparking.

"Calm down. We'll head to the police station and report the car," Layla reasoned.

"And what? They're going to find it immediately? What are we supposed to do?" Warren yelled.

"Stop yelling! It's not like I did it!" she shouted back.

Warren fumed, "Whoever did this is going to pay."

* * *

That's how they found themselves sitting in a police station, the cop's bemused expression angering Warren even further. He had muttured something about "out of towners" and chuckled. Warren gripped the seat tightly to keep from lashing out.

"How long does it usually take to locate cars?" Layla asked politely.

"A few days, a week. Maybe even a month," he answered honestly.

"We need it. We're heading towards San Fransisco," Warren growled.

The cop shook his head, "May I suggest walking everywhere there, too. Just leave it at the hotel. Look, we'll call if we found it. Are you sure you weren't parked in a no-parking zone?"

"Yes," Warren answered.

"We'll get back to you."

* * *

Another night had to spent in the hotel with Warren unable to sleep and Layla up worrying with him. She decided not to tell her mom about the car when she called to see how she was.

* * *

**A little bit of background for you all. Hope it was enjoyable.**

**Please review.**


	6. From Pages

**I don't own Sky High.**

**From Pages**

Taxis were expensive, especially in L.A. Layla and Warren were confined in the cramped room. She flipped through a book she had read many times before. As she was reaching Darcy's letter to Elizabeth, Warren threw down the remote in frustration. Layla looked up at him, face blank. They had been stuck in the small room for hours and it was grating on both of their nerves.

She set down the book gently and crawled across the bed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"The police will find the car," she told him reassuringly.

"They better," Warren grumbled.

Layla took a deep breath, rubbing his shoulders.

He relaxed noticeably, eyes lidded. He had been staring at the TV all day. Layla picked the book up, and began to read aloud.

"Be not alarmed, madam," she started. Warren sat up straighter and took the book from her.

"A guy should be reading this," he said.

Layla settled next to him, head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"_Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you,_" he began, his deep voice sounding the every bit the same as Mr Darcy's would.

"_I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten: and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice,"_ he paused.

"Keep reading," she urged, looking up at him with her large eyes.

"Darcy's an idiot, sorry."

"Warren!" Layla laughed.

"He insulted her family, and her, breaks up her sister's relationship, and now he's in love with her?" he snorted.

Layla looked down, "You mean he called her names and rolled his eyes at her?"

Warren glanced at her warily, "That'd be the modern interpretation, sure."

She shook her head.

"He liked her from the start, but didn't want to show it. That's why he said she wasn't 'handsome enough'. That's why he was so aloof. He's not a people person," she defended Mr Darcy.

"Not a people person," Warren said softly, "that I can relate to."

Layla wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her.

"I know you don't let anyone in, but I'm glad you did for me," she whispered.

She tried to pull away, only for Warren to keep her in place. He pulled back slightly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Me too," he admitted.

And for Layla, that "me too" had all the significance in the entire world.

* * *

Joy Peace looked through the book idly. She hadn't heard from Warren, and she was beginning to worry. The only thought that soothed her fears was that Layla was with him. She'd keep the hothead from doing something too stupid. Or so she hoped. She knew that the young woman tended to oversee the characteristics in Warren that made him frightening to others.

She tossed the book down, running her hands through her hair. Once golden blonde, it was now graying and thinner than it had been.

The book had been a gift from her husband. A first edition of her favorite novel, with its worn cover and yellowing pages. He had written a note, sentimental and not what was expected of a man in a maximum security prison. Then again, he hadn't yet been in the prison. She hadn't yet thrown him out of their house. He hadn't yet faced off against the Commander.

A bitter taste entered her mouth. The Commander. She tried not to hate him, but she did. Warren needed a dad, and because of the Commander's uppity righteousness, he had been deprived of that.

She looked at the clock. Maybe she could visit Baron earlier today.

* * *

_"If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you," _Warren finished reading the letter, Layla still clinging to his side.

A soft smile played across her lips, satisfied in the knowledge that Elizabeth would soon forgive Darcy.

He closed the book, setting it on the bedside table. He closed his eyes. Layla watched him and wondered if he was imagining Elizabeth reading the letter by candlelight just as she had.

She lay down next to him. He cracked an eye open.

"We need to get out of this room," he decided.

She nodded.

"No car. No travel. No food. Nothing."

"We could walk to buy groceries."

"Fine," Warren agreed. He took his wallet from the dresser and moved toward the door.

Layla followed him.

The walk was short and spent in companionable silence. The heat was stifling and both of their stomachs were growling. Upon entering the store, Layla immediately headed towards the fruits and vegetables.

Warren mumbled something about "rabbit food" and moved to pick up bread and peanut butter. They paid for the loaf of bread, jar of peanut butter, bag of apples and carrots, and water.

"Tonight, we feast like kings," Warren deadpanned as they walked back to the hotel.

The sun had begun to set over the LA skyline, lights popping up in buildings around them. The sky twirled into a mix of orange and pink, creating a glow around the usually smoggy city.

"It's actually pretty," Layla commented.

"Shocker," he said in a monotone voice.

They entered the hotel room, setting their sparse dinner on the table in front of the window. Layla spread peanut butter on the apples and placed them on a paper plate. Warren munched on bread with peanut butter. They sat at the table in silence, contemplating what their next moves would be.

They finished eating soon, saving the rest of the food for breakfast in the morning, and the carrots for snacking on.

"Let's go to the pool," Layla suggested as the twilight sky darkened.

"Sure, why not?" Warren replied, slightly moody since his beloved car was still missing. It was perhaps too much to ask for the LAPD to find the beat up car in a day.

There was no one there, and the only light came from the lights in the pool. Layla sat down at the edge of the pool, her pale legs dangling into the water. Warren shrugged off his shirt and jeans, jumping into the water. Layla held her arms out as she got splashed.

"Come on then," Warren splashed her once more.

She huffed, grumbling. She stood, shrugging off her shorts to leave her in pale pink underwear She tossed her tee shirt into the pile with Warren's clothes and jumped into the water.

Layla wiped water away from her eyes and swam over to Warren.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Quite," he smirked, ducking her head underwater.

She yelped, kicking back up to the water's surface. She glared at her companion, who merely laughed at her. She sputtered, treading closer to him to pull him underwater. Warren held up his hands in defeat.

"Nope, not working," she narrowed her eyes, resting her hands on his shoulders. She pushed him under water. His hand grabbed her leg, pulling her down with him.

There under the blue water and glowing lights, they stared at each other curiously. They kicked off back to the surface, breathing heavily.

Layla smoothed her hand through her hair nervously, feeling exposed in her underwear and matching bra. She crossed her arms in embarrassment and looked down.

"Layla," Warren said hoarsely.

"What?" she asked, biting her lip.

He swam towards her and cupped her cheek with his large hand. His thumb brushed her lips. Her eyes were wide and she shivered.

"Warren," she wimpered.

"You just had to say my name like that," he mumbled, leaning forwards.

He pressed his lips against hers gently, tentatively. Layla uncrossed her arms, wrapping them around his neck. She kissed back, surprised and awed that he had the courage to do what she wished she could do. He kissed her with more force, pushing her against the edge of the pool.

"Warren," she let out, drawing out his name.

"Hmm," he continued to kiss her, relishing into the taste of her lips. To finally have her lips upon his after the waiting and the little games they'd play with one another was unbelievable.

"Nothing," she muttered as he lowered his hands to her hips, drawing circles.

She clawed against his back, pressing herself even closer. She wanted to be as near to him as possible. He pushed her closer to the edge of the pool, moving one hand to the back of her head, holding it. His other hand roamed over her trembling body. Across her stomach, down her back, up her leg, and onto her bum. He rubbed it gently. She arched her back, gasping for breath.

Her hands flew to his boxers, toying with the edge. She could feel him against her, but the cottony fabric was in the way. He broke the kiss suddenly, taking her hands.

"What are you doing?" he croaked. Her hands that close to him was too much.

Layla blushed, unhooking her legs from his waist, "I thought...I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

Warren chuckled, kissing her.

"You've done nothing wrong. You're perfect," he leaned forward, brushing his lips against her now swollen mouth.

"Oh," she smiled lightly, "in that case."

She grabbed the back of his head with her hand, bringing him closer for another kiss.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait. I hope it was worth it. Please review.**


	7. Creep

**This was going to be a bit smuttier than it turned out. I think it's for the best. I don't own Sky High.**

**Creep**

She looked like an angel, resting peacefully. Her red hair had formed a halo, fanned out on the pillow. He wished he had some sort of artistic ability so he could draw her. He snorted at the cheesiness of it all.

She stirred, turning on her side sleepily. That's when the panic set in.

Warren jumped out of bed, pulling on his boxers. He began to pace, running his hand through his long hair in worry. What had they done? What had _he_ done? He had just gone and ruined his friendship, that's what. He'd tainted her, the one pure person in his life. Layla didn't just look like an angel, she was one. It was the way she was nice to everyone, the way she would help anyone without expecting anything in return. And he'd gone and taken advantage of her. He was ready to kill any guy that so much as looked at her, now here he was, ready to hang himself with guilt. He was a damn creep.

He let out a grunt of frustration.

Layla propped herself on her elbows, staring at Warren.

"Morning," she greeted with a smile.

"Morning," he replied. How could she still bear to look at him, let alone smile?

She looked at him curiously, getting out of bed to hug him. He tried to look anywhere but at her naked form.

"No, Layla," he pushed her away. The look of hurt in her eyes didn't escape him.

"Warren," she sounded confused.

"I'm sorry," he said in a monotone.

"For what?"

"What I did, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I understand if you want me to take you home right now," he mumbled quickly.

"You did nothing wrong. What are you on about?" her brow wrinkled.

"I messed up. I should've controlled myself, but I didn't, and I've ruined everything," he nearly shouted. He handed her his tee shirt.

"I wasn't exactly complaining," Layla tossed the shirt at his face.

Warren snorted in slight amusement before catching himself.

"I love you, Warren," she said kissing him gently.

He forgot what he had been talking about. She tended to have that effect on him. His hands grazed the sides of her breasts and she moved her hand to the waistband of his boxers.

He pulled away in another bout of panic.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

His cell phone rang, and he picked it up. The police had found the car.

"I'll take you home once I get the car," he said as he dressed.

Layla sat down on the bed petulantly, crossing her arms.

"We're going to San Fransisco," she said in annoyance.

"Fine."

With that, he left the hotel room, leaving Layla to stare at the spot he had just vacated.

She stood wearily, biting her lip. He was such a damn coward. She wasn't some porcelain doll that would break into little pieces if touched.

Layla set out her outfit: a teeshirt and capris She zipped up the duffel bag and slipped on her sandals.

* * *

An hour later, Warren stomped through the door, informing her that he had checked them out of the hotel.

Without another word, he took her duffel bag and led her to the recovered car.

"Who took the car?" Layla asked as they sped down the freeway.

"Some punks, I'm guessing," he answered in a clipped tone.

Layla glared at him. Warren remained silent as she bent over to fetch a book from her bag. She began to read silently.

Two hours passed with no words spoken between them.

"Shit," Warren muttered.

"What?" Layla asked, curled up on the seat.

"Gas," he answered.

He had reverted back to short, snappy sentences, his go-to for everyone. Everyone but her, that is, until now.

"Oh, shit, shit," Warren swore again as the car slowed to a stop.

"We're out of gas?" Layla asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Damn idiots who stole it must've had a nice time driving around. The meter showed it as full though until fifteen minutes ago. The thing must be busted," he hit his fist against it.

He pressed the emergency blinkers, glad that they were at least in the right lane.

"You take the wheel, I'll push," he instructed her.

Warren got out of the car as Layla slid into the driver's seat. She turned the wheel to the right so they would at least be in the shoulder. Warren pushed the car, moving it steadily.

Once they were parked on the shoulder, Warren opened the passenger door.

"What now?" Layla asked.

"We call for help," Warren took out his phone. No reception. Damn, "Or not."

Layla reached over Warren's lap to get her bag, brushing her hand over his knee. She took out her phone to see that she too had no reception.

Warren got out of the car, "I'll push until the exit over there, we might find a gas station."

"You're not pushing by yourself," Layla opened the door to step out.

"Get back in the car!" Warren shouted.

"No way I'm leaving you!" Layla shouted back.

They began to push the car. They had managed to get to a gas station just off the exit. Admittedly, Warren had done most of the work.

Layla sat huddled in the passenger seat as Warren filled up the gas. Her mind was racing and her head ached.

"Do you want anything?" he asked her.

"Yeah, my Warren back," she said softly.

Warren sighed and turned back to the gas meter.

"Look at me. I promise I won't bring last night up again if you don't love me. Just tell me that you don't love me," she said simply.

"I can't do that," he said.

"Then what's the problem?" she asked as he slammed the pump back in its place and got into the car, slamming the door.

"The problem is that I'm not good enough for you!" he yelled.

"You can't possibly think that," her eyes searched his.

"Your mom hates me," he pointed out.

"So?" Layla brushed her thumb over his cheek. She leaned over the car's shift stick and kissed Warren. Instead of doing nothing, he kissed back, running his hand through her hair.

"We need to get going," Warren said.

"Back to normal?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait. Classes have started up again, and I've been studying like crazy. I hope the chapter was worth it.**


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